


Consequences

by dabu



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, F/M, oh god so much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 09:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7752994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dabu/pseuds/dabu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaina confronts Thrall after the events of "And Justice For Thrall".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consequences

It is all too easy to teleport next to his tent in Nagrand. He could  have expected her coming, her inevitable wrath, and decided to forgo the usual wards prepared around the camp. Or perhaps, she thinks with a bitter twist of her mouth, he simply does not have the command over the mages of the Horde he once had.

She hates to admit that she had half counted on the resistance, the part of her that wanted to avoid this confrontation depending on it. To spare him, to spare herself the pain of dragging this out with him. So she takes a deep breath of the night air, the calmness of the shadows enveloping and cradling her and remembers why she is here. Garrosh. The only thing they have to talk about any longer. The one tattered thing remaining between the two of them, and now his selfishness has gone so far as to obliterate that, to deny her lasting satisfaction, the momentary peace of watching the light leave Hellscream's eyes.

She is so absolutely furious with him for this that she can barely breathe with it.

That he never accepts responsibility for his actions, that since his appointment of Garrosh he seems to absolved himself of all sins conducted in his absence.  An aching absence, like a wound in the soul of his people and a shocking hole in her heart. An absence that has been filled with more pain, misery and anger than she could have ever known or imagined.

So caught up in her righteous anger that she spares no more though to what she may find inside than she does to automatically putting one foot in front of the other until she is facing him at last. Bursting through the tent flaps completely incandescent, she finds him standing calmly next to his bed. Her face twists further into a sneer at his placidity, feeling the rage surge through her like a tidal wave.

She's thought of what feels like a thousand things to say to him, lying awake at night or quiet moments in the day, fantasy dialogues aimed to incite anger, to induce shame, to cow him into submission before her onslaught.

"Give me one good reason not to kill you where you stand." Once the words start rattling out, it's like they can't stop, "Allowing Garrosh to ruin my life, ruin everyone's lives, wasn't enough? You had to take the satisfaction of ending him from me too? Light, I wanted- needed, so badly to kill him, to watch him finally pay for his crimes at my own hands but no Jaina, wait Jaina, there'll be a trial Jaina, he's gone Jaina, it's too late Jaina. This was all that was left for me, and it meant nothing to you to take it away from me. Why would it? You abandoned everything to lead this happy little life no matter the destruction you left behind you, no matter the cost. You're looking at me, but can you really even see me? Do you even care? I thought we used to be- And people say I'm the monster."

In the years after Hyjal, before everything had spiralled into chaos, Jaina used to be able to read Thrall like an open book. It was hardly as if they ever tried to hide things from one another. What had started as an attempt to finally mend matters between Horde and Alliance, on the fresh start of a new continent, became an impossible friendship. They were closer than Jaina was to any other living human, and there was always a tense connection between them that was impossible to deny. Some days, sitting together on a sandy bluff in Durotar, or perched on the mountains behind Mudsprocket, she'd feel like she was floating in the warmth of his presence, that even their breathing was in sync, knowing they could truly be themselves with each other. Then, the Cataclysm, and everything changed.

Now she's bared all her soul for him to see, and he can't even grace her with a reaction. She bares her teeth, feeling like she'll go insane waiting for this rock of a man to break.

"I don't think I could say anything to help you shoulder the hurt you carry, Jaina." Thrall finally replies.

"Don't you even dare to presume-"

"No, please Jaina. Please. I'm sorry. You want the truth? I've seen the kind of life Sylvanas leads." Thrall says, holding out a placating hand to stem the furious tirade he knows will stem from that sort of comparison, "And it's never the kind of life I would want for you. She allowed vengeance and hatred to consume her, eat her from the inside. After we defeated the Lich King, all she can live on is bitterness now.

"You're one of the best people I've ever known, Jaina, and I couldn't let you kill in hate. I didn't want you to become that person."

"What, so you're worried for my soul? How noble of you. I think you've given up any say you might have had in the kind of life I live, don't you?" Jaina allows herself to glance at the obviously unoccupied bed behind him.

A long moment follows, heavy silence weighing between them. Jaina feels her anger begin to slowly drain from her core, and it becomes harder and harder to hold onto it. Instead it is replaced with the exhaustion she's started feeling day after day, when she can no longer muster her rage. Everything has begun to happen around her without her input or her say-so, and it feels like she can only react to the world now, like she is no longer a player in her own life.

Watching the hesitance begin to steal across Thrall's face, cracking his stoic facade, is almost an exercise in nostalgia, reminding her of simpler times when they had simpler things to say to one another.  She wonders what he sees on her face in turn.

"I want to- I'm trying to take responsibility for my mistakes. You think it doesn't stay with me every day, what happened to the Horde? What happened to Cairne, Vol'jin... What happened to you. I made what felt like the best choice at the time, and it had consequences that almost destroyed everything I held dear. So today I killed the son of my friend, and now I might have to kill Grom too. All I want is to help but being here is hurting Vol'jin's authority and hurting my-" Aggra's absence is like a ghost behind Jaina's back, itching between her shoulder blades.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Spirits, I'm sorry. That my actions hurt you. Again. All this is the last thing I ever wanted." Thrall finishes. He looks almost relieved to have got it all out. Perhaps he's been thinking of this moment too.

Here it all was, what she was waiting for. The regret, the anguish plain on his face and in his voice. Jaina expected to feel some measure of satisfaction, some release to know that he felt some fraction of the pain she went through. That he knew it was his fault.

Instead, it all just feels like an awful waste. Everything, for the last year has been a waste of life, a waste of potential, and a waste of time. What would this confrontation ever change? There was such an impossible distance between them now, everything was too different and twisted. Jaina whirls to go, to burst from the tent and just go as fast as she can until she can outrun this feeling, in no fit state to teleport on the still alien environment of Draenor, when she feels something snag against her wrist. It's Thrall's hand.

She stares down at it like an unknowable entity, before slowly turning back to face him, finding him closer than she's been to him in years. The familiar crane in her neck to look up his imposing (comforting) body, the unsteady waver of his chest, the warm smell of him and oh.

There it is. The breathless thing between them. There's a shared inhale as they both let a shiver run through the point of contact, before Thrall pointedly releases her wrist and hunches back with his palms up in surrender. He was always so considerate of making her comfortable with his body, diminishing his height and physicality when he could, surprised when she sat so easily pressed up against him whilst discussing diplomatic and eventually private matters. Practising Orcish with him, pressing him for information on Orcish holidays and traditions, trying to understand a race she'd been taught for so long were unintelligent, savage barbarians. That had killed her brother, her father. That had produced a man like none other she'd ever known.

The same man that now has two children and a life mate, whilst she would forever bear the scars of the Horde's potential for cruelty, both inside and out.

Suddenly the unfairness, the awfulness of it all crashes through her chest, sweeping her away on a wave of emotion. Sadness and lingering rage and love, it could only hurt so much to have started with love, filling the nothingness and exhaustion, breaking over her and bowing her under the weight. Tears swim up in the back of her eyes, ignoring her clenched jaw and silent mantra not to crack, not here, Thrall's face growing blurred. Now she has to watch his face crumple in kind, a sort of desperate kindred distress. He makes an aborted step forward, and visibly flinches when she  curls her body away from him with a sob.

"Please. Please Jaina don't cry. I'll leave you alone, I'll do whatever you want. Please, tell me what I can do to start to fix this."

Jaina can't manage to get any words out between the great gulps of air and sobs that wrack her body. It's like being back at the beginning of her grief again, when the sorrow would physically possess her, leaving her paralysed. She thought she had moved past all that. Then again, there were some things she lost she never left space to grieve until now.

"How I can tell you what I want from you when I don't even know what I want from myself?" She finally manages between heaves. Uncurling herself, she forces herself to stand as steadily as she can, feeling like a strong breeze could tip her over.

"What you said. About me being like Sylvanas. I know, I think I've known for a while now. What feeling like this could do to me. How scared I am sometimes by how much I've changed.

"But then I think to myself, if I stop being angry, then what was the point of all those deaths? What will they have died for? If I mourn, move on, forget it all, what happened will become senseless, a chapter in history. You'll never understand, Go'el. I felt Kinndy's body dissolve in my arms. I didn't have anything left to bury. All of it, everything, obliterated instantly, oh light, she was far too young to die in such a way."

Jaina felt hollowed out, like crying was draining poison from a wound and she had finally removed the root of a rot she didn't even know she had. She didn't necessarily feel better, but she did feel lighter. Allowing her gaze to float upwards, she notices that she and Thrall have moved closer to each other, sharing their space like it's the most natural thing on this world or any other. This time she lets her hand slowly approach his, not daring to look at his face. Expecting his withdrawal, she's shocked when her skin makes contact with his, letting her fingertips drift over the side of his hand and then run over to his palm as his turns it upwards to her touch. She's as fascinated by their physical difference as she ever was as she takes in the tininess of her hand against his, the shocking contrast of their skin tones.

As his fingers start to close around hers, she finally risks looking up at him again as she slides her fingers between his. There's no way to excuse what they're doing now, touching so intimately, letting the silence carry into an aching moment of simple comfort. A feeling she never thought she would experience again, that she's selfish enough to let continue despite other promises they've both made.

"You don't have to forget them." Thrall murmurs, running his thumb soothingly over the outside of her hand, bringing up the other to clasp it gently as well, like something precious, "Just honour them by living. Being the brilliant person you are. As long as you're alive, your legacy continues, they won't be forgotten."

He bends one knee to stoop over, brushing a whisper of a tusked kiss across her hand, keeping his body bent over it long after. His shaved head is so alien to her, Jaina lets her other hand rise and ghost over the stubble, feeling as much as seeing the shiver that runs through him. Clutching her desperately now, Thrall lets his head rise just enough to look her in the eye, entirely at her mercy. She could kill him in this moment, leave him, or make a move that would damn them both. The same move she's thought about for years, but had always put off until it was too late.

"It is late." Jaina allows herself to softly murmur, gently withdrawing her hand. Letting reality rush back in, the sounds of Nagrand echoing from outside the tent. Thrall hesitates for a long second, before standing up with a wince. Neither of them are as young as they used to be, feeling aged despite their relative youth.

Feeling uncharacteristically awkward in her own skin in the silence, Jaina tries to relax her body to prepare for the transportation spell that will take her back to her camp. Just as she begins to feel the arcane energy rush up inside her, she notices Thrall doggedly sorting through his pack near his bed roll. Keeping it at bay, she gives him enough time to find what he is looking for and straighten up, noticing something small and familiar grasped in his hand.

"Goodbye Jaina," Thrall uncurls his fist, allowing her to see the sending stone nestled there.

"Farewell Thrall," Jaina replies, feeling the familiar weight of its twin in her pack as she disappears into the nether.

**Author's Note:**

> This is so trashy but I just had to get it out. Grovelfic lol.
> 
> *lies down on the floor and never gets up*


End file.
